


Wishful Thinking

by Sonny



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Challenge Response, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-12
Updated: 2003-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 13:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael finally cuts his Momma's "apron strings"... Once and for all... kinda, sorta... not so you'd notice...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishful Thinking

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd ; To my mentor, xof... much love and R-E-S-P-E-C-T, lovey; To Paula and Kris, for the inspiration to make your job easier and please you both greatly... having wonderful dreams at night with goofy grins on your faces; And to my always supportive family at the B/M Yahoo Group, without you guys... how would I survive?

 

“Get the fuck out!” Michael stood his ground behind the counter at Red Cape Comics store.

“Michael, please!” Debbie begged, holding the plastic bowl of pasta, tightly, to her chest.

“Mike, why don’t you lay off the drama.” Uncle Vic came in from the cold behind his sister.

The door shut with the bell clanging against the glass.

“Hey! Mikey!” Brian plopped down from where he was perched, reading an old Wonder Woman comic. It dangled open in one hand.

“Everyone just . . . shush!” Michael went back, avoiding looking at Debbie. “I can’t believe you’d bother to show your face here.” He picked up a pile of comics to sort them in their respectable bins. “I said . . . get out.” He quietly stated as he went about the store.

Debbie knew what Michael was talking about. She couldn’t go into details with Vic, or Brian, within listening distance. “I, ah . . . made you some pasta with marinara. I know Ben’s out of town, so I thought . . . ”

Michael lay the pile on a box, leafing through some bins to place each comic in their rightful place. “He’s not out of town. He’s gone.” His voice sounded normal to everyone, but Brian.

Brian’s eyebrow rose in fascination. When the hell had this happened?

Debbie’s voice cracked with emotion. “Gone where?”

“Where apparently YOU wanted him, from the beginning. Out of my life, Ma! That’s where!” Michael turned around to lean on the table of bins, crossing his arms over his chest. He wanted her to know, tending to smother the men out of his life always worked like a charm. “Did you think your little chat with him, the other day, wasn’t profound enough? He came home last night, said he was packing . . . leaving Pittsburgh.” He slowly shook his head, looking off to the side in pure sorrow. He had come so close.

“How long?” Debbie swallow the lump growing in her throat. Had she really been so cruel? She had such an innocent discussion with Ben, nothing rude, mean or thought provoking.

“Long enough to forget me.” Michael mumbled under his breath.

Brian tried to recover some semblance of sanity in the room. This much tension between mother and son wasn’t good for the Novotny family. The Kinney Clan, on the other hand, that was normal everyday activity. “No one could forget you, Mikey.” He made a move to reach over an chuck Michael on the cheek, but was quickly rebuffed as the head dodged his touch. Whoa! He must truly be thoroughly pissed!

“Shut it, Brian! Stay out of this!” Michael chocolate brown eyes, usually filled with happiness, intently stared him down in serious frustration.

Brian didn’t like Michael’s attitude toward him. “And what is the *this* I’m not supposed to be involved in?”

“My sex life, as usual. Or lack, there of.” Michael wiped a hand over his forehead, where he could feel a stress headache beginning. He went back to yelling at his mother. “When will you learn to butt out?! Let me work out my own life for myself? I’m thirty, not three!!”

Debbie sputtered out a noise, unable to make sense of why Michael wouldn’t allow her to apologize. “I thought I was helping.”

“Helping? Me? You *help* other gay men, their mothers and members of PFLAG, Ma! You don’t *help* in my situations, at all. Holding my hand with my boyfriends! I can fuck up my own life! Thank you very much!”

Vic turned back, heading toward the door. This was a very good time to exit. “Let’s go, Deb. Give Michael some space.” He knew that something Debbie had said went straight to his nephew’s heart, wounding him greatly. He shook his head at his sister's misunderstanding, sometimes, of how to handle her own son. At times, meddling too far beyond comprehension.

Debbie felt trapped. She didn’t want to be here, but she also wanted to beg some kind of forgiveness to Michael. But not in front of Vic or Brian. She turned to her baby son. “Is he right, Michael?”

Michael couldn’t bear to look at his mother. He swiftly turned his back to her, in his huff-n-puff stance. “Yeah. Don’t expect to see me for a few days. Don’t try to sneak around here, either. I can make my own hours. Close whenever I want to.” As if he was suddenly realizing, in his own mind, how cruel he could be sounding, Michael back tracked a few steps. “Let me come to you, Ma, when I feel that it’s time.”

Man! That could be days, even weeks. Debbie felt the tears pooling. She was sure to lose Michael. Besides Vic, her baby son was her only link to the world. Losing him would be devastating. A piece of her missing. Her lifeline. “So . . . what do I do? I'm supposed to forget I have a son? Forget to serve you when you come into the Diner? Just like that?!” Her lips began to quiver at the cruel way Michael was treating her. All the things she had sacrificed for him.

“Maybe, I’ll find a new place to eat. OFF... of Liberty Avenue.” Michael began to hear his own tone of voice. He was giving into her too easily, again, like always. “Away from you!”

Debbie could barely look at Michael. The surface tears willing to fall.

Vic pulled his sister close. “Deb . . . Michael, please!” He silently begged that at least one of his stubborn family members would give in.

Suddenly, when least expected, Michael swiveled to face all the eyes that were on him. The pain this was causing him was evident on his features. The redness and the moisture caking under his eyes and cheeks telling signs that this wasn’t easy for him. He had tried to stave off his tears as long as he could. “What you said hurt more than you know, Ma. Thank God I heard it with my own ears. I never would have believed Ben, once he told me the real reason he was breaking up with me. You couldn’t leave well enough alone? You had to push him over when he was already half way there? Didn’t even give me a fair shake to recover.” He tried to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.

“I was being honest.” Debbie still hated what she had done, but knew that Ben had to listen to some harsh truths about Michael.

“Sometimes being honest means hurting those we love, right? Maybe, then, you’ll understand better when I say . . . again . . . GET. THE. FUCK. OUT!” All those neatly stacked comics flew toward Debbie as she was tugged backward by Vic.

Michael was enraged and unable to control his breathing. Once letting go of the comics through the air, he quickly covered his eyes, wishing for his mother to exit the next time he opened his lids.

Vic gathered Debbie to him as they made their way safely to the door.

Michael watched them exit, with such fear on their faces, but he couldn’t control the rest of his fit. “And take . . . your damn . . .” He grabbed the old Tupperware container off his counter, ran to his door and threw the bowl out after them. “ . . . marinara with you!” He shut the door on some young customer’s face. Through his tears, he switched the sign to “Closed”. “Can’t you fuckin’ read?!”

The young man looked hurt and shocked. “But it’s only two o’clock! Your sign says you close at five.” He held up five fingers, spread out.

“I’m sick!” Michael yelled through the glass.

“You look alright to me.” The young man yelled back, fogging up his side of the glass.

“There’s been a death in the family.” Maybe THAT would make him go away.

“Oh... uh, sorry! You’ll be open tomorrow?!” The voice held such hope.

Michael slumped his shoulders at the length of time it was taking to chase this boy away. He didn’t want to be nice. He was too angry and frustrated to act anything but pissed off. “What’s your name?”

“Why?”

“Just tell me your damn name!” Why did people want to ask so many questions? Let things be what they were. It wasn’t clicking with this kid. Michael sighed, perturbed. “If you give me your name, I’ll keep it next to my resister. When I open tomorrow, should you come back, I’ll give you an extra discount. Sound fair?”

“Cool.” The kid seemed to look around before speaking through the glass. “Barry White.”

“Excuse me?” Michael stared aghast. The young man was very “white”, but definitely not Barry White, the singer.

“I know. Blame my Mom.”

“Can’t we all?!” Michael pulled the shade down as he turned the locks on the front door. Christ, he just realized he would need to clean up the mess of sauce on the street, or get served a hefty fine. God, he hoped no one had run over the container already. Debbie treated those things like fine monogram China.

“What the fuck just happened, Mikey?” Brian was testing the waters on how to approach.

Michael shut his eyes, truly forgetting that Brian had been standing there all this time. “She worked my proverbial ‘last nerve’, Brian.”

“When has she NOT busted your balls for something?”

“All my life... and every year after that.” Michael bent to land on his knees on the floor. He was planning on picking up all the scattered comics. He was shocked to find that Brian was willing to join him on his hands and knees, too. The floor was all kinds of dirty. “May I ask what brings you here?”

“I’d be sarcastically witty and say 'my mother’, but I know what a sore subject that is with you. I’ll leave it alone.”

“Thanks so kindly.” Relaxing on the floor, Michael sat, Indian style, placing the newly organized stack in front of him. He periodically reached out for the comics Brian was finding. “I thought . . .” He shook his head at his own stupidity and in such a state of shocked sadness. “I thought she was cool with Ben. Thought we were over the illness crap.”

“He doesn’t have a cold, Mikey. Ben’s HIV+. That’s not an easy pill for any mother to swallow.” *Nor for a best friend to handle*, Brian completed in his own thoughts.

Leaning his head back, Michael discovered a table leg willing to support him. “Did it look like I was enjoying the thrill ride? I’m not a total idiot. I know how serious this shit can be. Hell, Uncle Vic taught us all that.” He dipped his head, letting his chin hit his chest. “But it was my decision to make. My choice in whom I loved, who I allowed to love me in return. She’s never been happy with the men in my life.”

“David . . . ” Brian began, sitting back on his legs, straightening a pile of comics in his hands.

“David was a freak of nature. You saw how well THAT one worked out. She might have liked him, but she grew to hate him when he took her baby son so far away.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Don’t bullshit me. I might have been gone, but I know how she is. Probably talked your fuckin’ ear off at the Diner, every single day. Pestering you if you’d heard from me. What was I doing? What shit was I getting into?” Michael shook his head, sadly. His life was truly as pathetic as Brian always teased.

“You are not *pathetic*, Mikey.” Brian continued to work on the small pile, while Michael grew quiet and introspective. He knew what Michael was thinking. Pretty soon, he’d have to stop moving, grab a seat and listen intently. Somehow, though, he liked keeping busy. A moving target was harder to hit. “Do you understand where Deb’s coming from?”

Michael undid his legs and pulled them up to drape his arms over each knee. “I do, Brian. But how can I work at accomplishing anything, remotely resembling a committed relationship, if she’s there, trying to sabotage my happiness?”

Brian knew this wasn’t the time to sit far away from Michael. He pulled up his body right next to Michael’s, on the left side. One leg, Brian’s left, was tucked under him, while the other was stretched out to invade Michael’s path. He perfectly blocked Michael being able to flee easily. There was a low shelf, under the tables, where overstock comics were stored. Brian brought up his left arm to rest his elbow along the ledge. He wanted to be close enough to Michael while they talked. “Are you sure it’s her?”

Michael looked as if he was unable to control his tears. His eyes remained closed as he took in a deep breath. He felt a slight movement. Brian began petting his cheek, softly, just a whispered touch with the back of his hand. “I don’t know. Maybe I do lose sight of reality, once and awhile. I see things as Good or Bad and no in between. Maybe I do have this certain expectation of failure in the men I fall in love with.” He shook his head at the intense pain he felt in his chest. “But for her to go behind my back, thinking that Ben needed a ‘talk’. That was a flagrant disregard of my feelings. What do I have if she doesn’t acknowledge I exist as a functioning human being? Where’s the respect? I do wonder if she doesn’t like me exactly the way I am. Weak, emotionally stunted and perfectly broken enough for her to constantly feel she has to fix me.”

“That’s a little harsh, Mikey. At least you have a Mom who gives a shit.”

Michael rolled his eyes at Brian’s usual tirade about his own mother. “Not that again. Joan Kinney is, was and will always be the Holiest Bitch on Planet Earth. Mine wants to baby every fucking trick on Liberty Avenue and treat her own son like he couldn’t drink water if led to the ocean.” He grew quiet, unable to say another word. “You didn’t hear what she said about me, Brian. They always say you never hear the right words when eavesdropping. Especially when the *topic* at hand is Y-O-U.”

Brian kept his mouth shut about the sensitive issue of Debbie’s Sunshine. “You think she talked with David, too?”

Michael rolled his head to look directly at Brian. His sorrow-filled puppy dog eyes screamed “Puh-leez”. “I know she’s gotten to you . . . plenty of times.”

“She hasn’t gotten anything over me. She has a way of . . .” Brian didn’t know if he could admit to his near fatal mistake at Michael’s thirtieth birthday bash.

“What? A way of speaking the truth?” Michael was about ready to move to stand on his feet.

“Mikey!” Brian used a hand to hold Michael down. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Loud and clear, Brian.” Michael averted his head, totally lost if Brian wasn’t willing to side with him in his anger.

“Please, just hear what I have to say.” Brian reached out to tuck a lock of fly away hair behind Michael’s ear. He leaned in close to use his voice to transfix Michael into remaining calm.

Michael had never heard such a heartfelt plea from Brian’s lips. Except when he had asked that Jack’s occasional abuse be kept a secret. “Go ahead.” Michael really wanted to hear Brian’s explanation of Debbie Novotny. He kind of liked hearing outsider’s views on his own mother and her child rearing ways. He crossed his arms over his chest, sticking his chin out.

Brian picked himself up, to face Michael head on. He rested his torso against Michael's bent knees and curled an arm about them, staring into Michael’s face. “She speaks from her heart, which usually hasn’t had any time to mull in her head. Weed out all the bad, offensive shit. She’s gonna hurt because she’s honest. I wouldn’t want her talks any other way. Half the bullshit she spews is a freakin’ chaotic mess of emotions, but her words sometimes strike a familiar chord in your ear. Like you’ve heard them before, but in your own head.” Brian watched as Michael became enlightened to his meaning. Michael was almost curling his body into itself. “Mean and nasty stuff that we’re too chicken shit to listen to . . . really hear, except when it comes from someone you thought had your back. Of course, you’re hurt and shocked. You have every fuckin’ right to be.”

“Good! Thank You! ‘Cause right now I don’t like my Mommy very much.”

“Me either! We’ll hate them both, together. Share in our misery. Laugh and point when they walk by. Say we used to know those old biddies way back when. We won’t march in Debbie’s stupid PFLAG parades! We won’t eat at her silly diner! Hell, I think we should call her up right now! Tell her we never liked her crappy marinara sauce and it gave us the runs.” Brian pulled out his cell phone, prepared to begin dialing. What would Michael do to know he had Debbie’s home and work number on speed dial?

Michael couldn’t help the chuckle that roamed free of his breaking heart. He grabbed for the phone. “You’d be wasting your time. Vic’s probably taking her to a movie, a matinee, to get her mind off things. Might take her out to dinner, later. A place she likes.” His eyes bore into the tiny phone as if Debbie was actually on the other end.

“See, you do know her. Admit it, you still care. No matter what she does or says. It’s why you love her, Mikey. She has your heart. That’s a pretty special relationship.” Brian rested his chin on top of his hands on Michael’s knees.

“Why does she feel she has to rip it out all the fucking time?!” Something broke inside Michael. Like the final straw. Michael Charles Novotny fell to pieces, right in the middle of his store’s floor, surrounded by the only things that accepted him. His comics and Brian Kinney.

“Ahhhh, fuck it!” Brian placed a kiss to Michael’s temple, drawing him into his arms. He had always believed that Michael had a quiet demeanor about his emotions, but this . . . this was a complete surprise. “Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Ssshh . . .” Whatever Debbie had said, shattered the depths of Michael’s fragile soul. Right then, Brian knew what he had to do.

With the ease of years to practice, Brian pulled Michael around to lay cradled in his lap. The short raven black hair brushed under his chin. He continued to kiss the top of Michael’s head as he rocked them both back and forth, hoping this was the right comfort his friend would need. After too many years of giving, Brian wondered if Michael would appreciate a return of the same kindness. He gave Michael the time to release all the pent up emotions he had collected, year after year.

The times people forced Michael to smile beyond the pain. Suck in that gut. Boys-Don’t-Cry bullshit.

What Brian didn’t realize was that by letting Michael slip this once, he was opening a Pandora’s Box of feelings. Brian was as guilty as Debbie, and some others, in thinking Michael had super human strength. Mostly, Brian was pleased that Michael felt he could leave heavy burdens into his protection. Secrets, like this, would always be safe from harm and ridicule.

“Christ!” Brian held onto Michael as tight as he could, placing a gentle kiss over the moisture laden skin of his face.

Michael encased his arms about Brian’s neck, sinking into his best friend’s arms, knowing what he was getting was exactly what he needed. Tucking his reddened face into the side of Brian’s neck and collarbone, Michael found haven in the storm.

They remained, like that, wrapped in each other, as if only they existed and one could console the other.

**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
“Thank You. And come again!” Brian couldn’t help grinning stupidly as he waved to the young gay men exiting the Liberty Diner. He completed ringing up their sale, pulling the drawer out to hand it off to Debbie as she gave him the new drawer. She moved to take a stool at the end of the counter. It was hitting midnight and the customers were sparse.

Debbie was about to close the register for a few minutes to count sales.

Brian had stopped by nearly an hour ago and took over like the old pro he used to be, way back when. Both he and Michael had worked many summers here. Frequently busing the tables and filling coffee cups and water glasses, while getting their cute tight asses pinched. Brian was always getting the numbers while Michael would have to get sloppy seconds or curious mothers who had desperate daughters.

Debbie admired the fine form of her *second son* as he made his last rounds to the tables. He looked like he belonged in some fancy restaurant, in his silk buttoned-down shirt and tie. The white apron, usually worn by the busboys, was tied low on his hips. Odd, how it shaped his trim form to show his delicate muscles.

Brian had tucked a pencil over his ear and rolled up his long sleeves to begin his tasks. He walked behind the counter, where Debbie usually stood and flittered about. He was getting her a slice of apple pie and a mug of fresh coffee.

“So, honey, now that we’re finally alone . . . ” Debbie glanced to the few customers left. “Somewhat. You said you needed to talk about something. Or is it someone?”

Brian grinned sheepishly and crossed his arms to lean over the counter toward Debbie. “How very perceptive of you, Deb. What gave me away?”

“Well, Michael’s stayed true to his word. I haven’t seen him in days. You practically come here, every chance you get. Haven’t said word one about him. I hope he’s doing all right. I worry about him, even though he doesn’t care that I do.” Debbie cleared out the drawer to place all the money in an unmarked zippered envelope. She didn’t dare count openly in front of customers.

“He asked that I keep an eye on you. Make sure you were doing okay. Are you?” Brian looked down at the counter top.

Debbie couldn’t help placing a shaking hand to her lips. Michael still cared, at least. That was a good sign. “What have you told him?”

“Nothing much. It’s really not my thing to throw my opinions into someone’s face.” Brian rested his chin on a hand, willing to stare Debbie down. He had never asked either Michael or Debbie to talk about what was said to Ben that night a few days ago that made Ben leave.

Debbie didn’t like Brian’s statement. It hit too close to home. “Did that little shit tell you what I said?” She thought Brian was working off what he had heard from Michael.

Brian perked up at that comment. “That little shit, Debbie, hasn’t said one thing about what happened between you, him and Ben. And truthfully, I don’t think that I want to know the exact words, because having to watch Michael go through the loss of another potential committed relationship is heartache enough. Some days he acts like he’s got no one else in the world who loves him...” *Except me,*, Brian thought about saying the words, but that would be too cruel.

Debbie tried to laugh over her nerves. “He hasn’t lost ME, Brian. I’m right here. Didn’t you hear him? He’ll come to me when he knows the time is right.” She tried to put on a brave face.

Brian stretched his arms, wide, on either side of him, using the counter for support. “Tell me why you did it? Why you do it? Why you think your advice is so much better than someone else’s?”

Debbie couldn’t understand why Brian would ask those questions in that manner. “I get tired of seeing the quality of men Michael allows to slip through his fingers. All on the shoulders of your happiness and approval.” She began counting the dollar bills to place the number in the calculator and in her Sales Log. "He hangs onto you during these relationships like he’s begging for the scraps you’ll throw his way. Some days it just . . . irks me what he’s let you get away with. He deserves better. You deserve better.”

“Better than Michael? Is that even possible, Debbie? There isn’t a man I’ve bumped into yet that can compare to his warm, kind, giving heart and his endless capacity to love. You used to care about whether he was happy or not. Now you just seem to glorify in his mutual misery. Am I really THE ONE to blame?” Brian knew Debbie would be on the defensive and try to wound him in some way. The problem was he could tell she was in pain and hurting herself. He expected her to champion her actions. “Ben’s a big boy . . . so is Michael. Don’t you think you owe it to Michael to let him fend for himself, once and awhile?”

Debbie snickered, snapping her gum. “Yeah, right. He’s doing such a grand job of keeping those men by his side. Practically chased David away. Sometimes people don’t see what’s staring them right in the face.”

“And you’re just the mouth to tell them they’ve been wrong all this time?” Brian pulled out the dish rag, tucked into his apron, to play with. “After all your stellar track record of relationships?”

Debbie paused, squinting her eyes toward Brian. “You’re still old enough to spank, you know? I know Michael, better than anyone. He doesn’t think about himself or whomever he’s with. He won’t ever pursue his own happiness until you either push him out of your life completely . . . or confess your undying love for him. Both, I know, won’t ever happen.” She went on to count the fives and tens entering their low counts in succession.

“Again, I don’t mean to sound like a fuckin’ broken record, but isn’t that Michael’s right to fuck-up?” Brian plopped the towel on the counter. He began folding and unfolding the ends together. “After all our discussions, you still don’t have faith in me?”

“Oh, I have faith that you’ll fuck the next trick you find at Babylon. But with Michael . . .” Debbie chewed her gum and shook her head in sadness. “I don’t believe that you’re the right man for my son, kiddo.”

“Hmmm... and who is, Deb? Was it Doctor Dave? Professor Ben? Or some sappy, white knight in shining armor?” Brian was beginning to think that Debbie was all talk. She was playing at being something she wasn’t. A big, ole meanie. Apparently, she had fooled every other man, except him. Brian understood her better than even Vic and Michael. “Despite all your preachy bickering, yanking me this way and that. Telling me to let loose of Mikey, which I have a feeling wasn’t quite what you fed Ben, or David, you thought I would crumble under your harsh words.” Like she had done to him on many occasions, Brian gripped her chin. “I want you to lift your head . . . look around you . . .” He used his index finger to direct her eyes around the room. “ . . . then come back here . . .” Brian’s finger ended right at the center of his chest. His hand opened to allow the palm to lay flat. “ . . . who’s left standing?” He backed up to do his usual pose of his arms wide open.

Debbie stared dumbfounded at the gorgeous man before her. Sometimes his appeal left her breathless. Christ, no wonder he could bang any man willing to leave with him for the evening. Poor Michael. And no wonder he was so good at his job. He had such a selling point with his vocabulary. The smirk began to flutter past her painted lips. “You . . . are so full of yourself.” She could only shake her head in wonderment.

Brian returned to the counter, bent down to Debbie’s level and gripped her left hand with his right. To any eye, it looked like an arm wrestling match was about to commence. Brian’s gentle kiss, placed on the top of Debbie’s hand, made his intentions clear. “You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

Debbie’s index and middle finger came out to caress Brian’s cheek that was nearby. “I wouldn’t love you any other way.” Tears were beginning to cloud her vision as her voice continued to sound strange.

“Why can’t you do the same for Michael?” Brian didn’t remove his eyes from Debbie’s face.

As if she was finally comprehending what Brian was trying to tell her, Debbie inhaled deeply, then slowly released the air. “My bond with Michael went as far back as into my pregnancy. I was going through so much bullshit. He was the one good thing I could figure I was bringing into this fucked up world. We’d fight the good fight together. Our closeness began the second they put him in my arms. Those beautiful chocolate eyes bore into my soul. My canvas had been painted. He was my piece of art. He’d had such a sickly, tough childhood. I thought for sure I’d lost him a few times, but someone smiled down upon this earthly angel and gave me many chances to perfect him. He was my everything. Whatever he felt, I suffered through about ten times as worse. I know what he’s sacrificed for himself in his lifestyle choices. No sane mother begs for a gay son. Once you have one, you have to hold on tight or they’ll flee. Afraid of being unloved. I embrace him more for his bravery. I wish I had his strength. Love isn’t easy, even for straights.” She shrugged, not knowing if she should voice this thought. “Maybe I’m a bit upset at myself, for being sad that I can’t have what every mother does. Grandchildren and in-laws. Holiday dinners at someone else’s house. I’ve had to rearrange my own life to make sure Michael was never sad.” Debbie paused in counting as she rested her chin on her hand. “Sometimes I don’t think I do a good job.”

“I think . . . both you and Michael need to talk. Neither of you is wrong in your anger, but you need to find a way to speak to one another.”

“How can I? He said . . .” Debbie was about to make a sad excuse when Brian halted her speech.

“That’s never stopped you before.” Brian moved to pick up the ceramic plate that held Debbie’s untouched piece of pie.

“Get!” Debbie swatted his wandering hands. “Have a lemon bar. On the house.”

“Don’t want a lemon bar!” Brian stomped like a bratty child. “I like your pie. Shit! You’re not eating it!”

“It’s still mine!” Debbie’s voice echoed in the empty diner.

Brian held up his hands to ward off any more smacking. “Sheesh! Chill!” He crossed arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his armpits. His thumbs poked out to tap a silly rhythm. “Sometimes Deb . . . Life is like that slice of pie . . .” He was about to wax poetic when Debbie’s laughter interrupted him.

“You . . . sneaky . . . bastard!” Debbie couldn’t believe how far Brian had reached for this analogy. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence!”

“Why? Whatever could you mean? I was just stating . . .”

“That I’m a cold, meddling, suffocating, neurotic bitch who thinks she knows everything, especially when it comes to her own son’s life?”

“I only wanted a slice of your fine pie, Mrs. Novotny.” Brian wasn’t even going to try to say the words with any inflections. It just sounded dirty, no matter how you said it.

Laughing harder than she had in days, Debbie began to see the man her son was able to see. “So . . . may I ask, at least, how he’s doing?”

“He’s having a rough time. He took everything you said to heart. Believes you meant each word. All this time, with Ben, he thought you were fine. His choices had your approval. That Ben’s health status had become less important.” Brian knew he had to face Debbie head on for these next comments. “You killed him with your words. Shut his spirit down. Hell, if you thought those things about him, and you were his mother, what was everyone else thinking? Was it all a charade? Christ, Deb! Hearing those words from your mouth, behind his back, was the wrong thing to do.”

Debbie closed her eyes at her own crappy, abrasive ways. “I didn’t mean to chase Ben away . . .” Her voice caught as the tears began to fall. “I had no idea Michael had just walked in. Standing there, listening to me as I talked.” She used a hand to cover her shaking lips. Brian sweetly offered the clean dish rag. “Thanks, sweetie.” Debbie wiped at the moisture collecting under her eyes. “He could only stand there . . . so quiet . . . nothing showing on his face. Ben walked over to take the groceries from Michael’s hands. Michael never moved a muscle. Like his feet were glued to the linoleum. Then his head turned slowly to mine. He walked over to hand me an envelope, tears pooled in his beautiful eyes, with a shock of pain to them. I didn’t know it was possible to watch someone ‘die’, from sadness, before your eyes. I realized what I had done too late. I’m his mother. How could I have done that to him?” She turned to watch as Brian came around the counter to take a stool beside her.

Brian stretched his legs to prison Debbie, front and back. “You do everything from your heart. You speak, you teach, you learn, you laugh, you cry, you love, you live . . . and you mother from here.” He patted the area over his own heart. “Not so brilliant half the time, but no one would expect anything more, or less, from you.” He reached out to grab her unsteady hand to clasp it to him. He wanted her to sense the steady thumping. “You showed me I still had one. I thought Jack had beaten the thing out of me. You taught me how to use it properly. You, also, gave me Michael. Despite your worries, you understood why we needed to be with each other. You allowed us to be kids, but you really taught us how to be men. Though you meddle like a pro, you gave us the space to stumble around and find our way.”

The towel was now permanently placed under Debbie’s eyes where the tears flowed freely. “You don’t think he’ll hate me forever.”

Brian stood, awkwardly, to reach out and grab Debbie’s head in his two hands. He mushed her face. “Dis bootiful face?!” He kissed her lips, then the top of her red head as he wrapped his arms about her allowing her to fall into his arms. She cried just as hard as Michael had a few days ago on his store floor. And like that same time, Brian felt his own emotions overflowing. “Look, Deb . . .” He was willing to put his ass on the line for her, patch the rift up between her and Michael.

“Ma?” A tiny voice called from behind Brian. Michael had heard enough to begin crying himself. Brian sure could say words he never could to Debbie. At least she didn’t feel she had to smack Brian, like she did Michael. He tucked his thumbs in his back pockets, making his way over.

Brian now removed himself off the stool and stood behind Debbie. He had his hands on her shoulders. His face was hidden half under the height of her wig. “Thanks for coming, Mikey.”

Debbie tried to look at Brian, but he sneaked away each time. “You called him?”

“Who the fuck do you think drove me here? I sure as hell didn’t walk.” Brian gave Debbie’s cheek a final peck and did the same to Michael. “Excuse me, I have some new customers to serve.”

Michael looked up at Brian, grinning stupidly. “Make sure they know YOU aren’t on the menu.”

Brian swatted at Michael, mimicking Emmett and swished his hips as he walked away. Giving off quite a show.

Debbie and Michael couldn’t help laughing at Brian’s caricature of a layman’s view of the Every Gay Man.

Mother and son looked into each other’s eyes. Already beginning a conversation they couldn’t start with words.

Michael could barely find his voice. “I could never hate you . . . forever.”

Debbie tried to smile beyond the grief. “I didn’t really mean all those things I said to Ben. When I get upset, I get emotional. And when I’m emotional, I say anything that’s in my head.”

“Don’t you mean in your heart?” Michael smirked at her.

“If I said the words from my heart, they would never had hurt you like they did.” Debbie cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Michael.”

Michael closed his eyes to late regrets. “Ben would have done something different, if I was truly worth it. I just wasn’t enough.”

Debbie grew enraged at Michael’s self-ridicule. “I never meant to show you that you were ever worthless. I’d do anything to see you happy.”

“I know that. But the real question is, even if it meant . . .?” Michael’s head moved to point toward Brian.

Debbie took a moment to contemplate Brian Kinney’s nice ass and Michael’s smiling face. Michael could be doing worse. Hell, he’d already done worse, but the damn thing kept coming back. “Christ! Do I have to invite his mother over, too?”

Michael chuckled as he nodded his head slowly. “And Claire.”

“Good Lord! I hope you know what I do for you.”

“I know, Ma. I know.” Michael spoke more to her in those few little words.

Debbie stood up to face Michael as he spun in the stool. His back faced the counter. She grabbed his face in her hands, placing a kiss on his forehead. She left the usual lipstick imprint on his pale skin. She felt his hands hug around her plump waist. “Good, ‘cause you do know I’d harm myself before ever hurtin’ you?”

“Yeah, Ma. I do.” There was a new sadness to Michael’s eyes that he tried to keep from his mother’s sight. She’d crossed a few lines he had never expected from her. Felt odd to have to keep feelings and such away from her. But it was how he had come to the final decision to put an end to their squabble. The longer he waited, the more agitated she’d get. Sometimes Michael felt like she was making him sacrifice just a bit more than she ever had in order to remain in his life. Sometimes parents never would understand the agony they could put their children through, without realizing it.

Debbie watched Brian make his way back over. “And you!”

“What I’d do?!” Brian appeared shocked, clearly used to having to defend himself.

The Novotny’s shared a look of understanding. They both loved this man, in their own different ways, but both secretly wishing he’d remain a part of their lives . . . forever.

“It’s nothing, Brian.” Michael shook his head as he pulled Brian closer to his side. “You ready to go?”

Brian already moved to take off the apron. “My shift over, Deb?” He wrapped a loose arm around Michael’s neck. “I think Babylon’s calling.” He began to do a little gyrating against Michael’s hip.

Debbie chewed on her piece of gum, looking between her two precious, precocious boys. God, but they did look like a beautiful couple. Maybe . . . “Get the fuck out!” She waved a hand to shoo them toward their Play Land.

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Brian began to tickle Michael as they laughed in glee. Brian slapped the apron on the counter. He goofed around like he was gonna race his Mikey out the door.

Last one at Babylon was a stinkin’ rotten egg.

Debbie couldn’t help but giggle at the funny view they made of two 30-ish year old men running out the door like they were getting released to play in the snow.

Odd, how a man, who had nothing of an ounce of normal family life, in his childhood, knew exactly what to do, and say, to bring family back together. Brian Kinney could be one brilliant man. A nice addition to the family.

And sometimes, life was funny in showing you to covet what you already have and forgo what you’ve always wanted.

The next time, Debbie would think very hard about butting in Michael’s relationship . . . maybe . . . kinda, sorta . . . but not so he’d notice.

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**==========THE END==========**


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